


I'm a Ghost

by Ripplebreeze



Category: Silicon Valley (TV)
Genre: Gen, Should I tag this as major character death?, ghost au, ghost kid au, gilfoyle is a dead 12 year old, kid AU, self explanatory
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-28
Updated: 2017-08-12
Packaged: 2018-10-25 00:16:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10752744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ripplebreeze/pseuds/Ripplebreeze
Summary: Gilfoyle is a 12 year old kid who's a ghost. Donald is an 11 year old foster kid with an unexplainable ability to see Gilfoyle. A connection is formed.Okay SO I was trying to write this in multiple parts but then I realized that this could easily just be a one-part oneshot and that'd work. If I feel like it, I'll perfect the other parts but for now, I'm okay just leaving it like this. Who knows about the future though, I might turn this into a series lolAlso, this was inspired by a conversation on tumblr and a wonderful piece of art drawn by my pal Captain (ily)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm really bad at doing this on time and I would get this beta'd but I'm lazy and just want this to be done (im such a slow worker ugh)  
> Anyways, I hope this isn't full of mistakes and it's got a good flow to it.
> 
> Enjoy!

Bluefield is a usually a quiet town. Not very large, it’s economy mostly reliant on local farmers. The people there are happy, simple folks, always greeting visitors with a smile and a good attitude. They felt responsible for making their visitors as comfortable as possible before it happened.

Weird things always happened in the one motel of Bluefield, always to people who aren’t local. Flickering lights and loud screaming in the middle of night were the common occurrences. Some claimed it was coincidence. Some said it was simply bad luck in their town. Others said residents don’t go to church enough (ironically, the ones who said that often were terrorized the most). The final theory was that there was a ghost.

This is where details get murky. If you ask anyone in Bluefield about the ghost haunting the town, they’ll have ideas that conflict with what their neighbor said. Even the people who don’t really believe it was ghost had their own theories. You know, on the small chance that the ghost does exist.

No one knew if it was just one ghost. Some claimed that there were as many as 10 ghosts living in Bluefield. A popular theory was that it was a family of ghosts, with two parents and two siblings. Some said it was simply two ghosts, a brother and a sister.

There were several people who claimed to have SEEN the culprits. Mrs. Lerna tells anyone who will listen that she saw the siblings walking hand in hand down her hallway. Both were pale as snow and were laughing about something. Mr. Mera swears that he saw a translucent toddler walking to the local grocery store.

This was something of an urban legend in the county and it often attracted amateur ghost hunters or goth teenagers, looking to see what the fuss was about. It also attracted revenue to the town so no one really complained.

Gilfoyle thought the rumors were cute. No one would suspect that it was just one 12 year old ghost/poltergeist. Technically, he had been dead for a few years. But he had been 10 when he ended up kicking the bucket so he wasn’t really sure. He enjoyed the small amount of fame he had. Also, scaring people is so much fun.

He enjoyed his existence very much. Sure, it kind of sucked that he couldn’t eat favorite foods anymore and he couldn’t really talk to people. He had to put a lot of effort into saying words so he just yelled a lot. People were always terrified and it never really led to any good conversations. But at least he didn’t have to pay taxes or do any other adult shit.

Gilfoyle always knew what was happening in Bluefield. It was a fairly gossipy town, making it easy to learn of any visitors coming in. He watched from across the street as a car pulled up in front of the Barrett family house.

Gilfoyle didn’t like the Barretts. He thought the kids were noisy, the mother was too self-absorbed to keep track of them, and the father was a deadbeat. And now they were adopting a kid? What a joke. He watched a boy about his age get out of the car hesitantly. A woman got out with him, taking in the house that the boy would presumably grow up in.

“Well, here’s a fresh start, Donald. You’ve got a cellphone and if anything happens...y’know... like last time, call me. But I’ve a good feeling about this family.” Gilfoyle couldn’t help but snicker.

“Thank you,” Donald said, his voice full of hope. “I’ve a good feeling too.”

Donald was wearing, frankly, ratty clothes. His brown striped sweater and his jeans had holes in them. His sneakers also looked very worn. But Gilfoyle couldn’t stop staring at Donald’s hair. It was combed neatly, each hair put in place perfectly. He clearly wanted to make a good impression, in spite of most of his outward appearance. Gilfoyle couldn’t see Donald’s face. He’d have to get a closer look later.

He floated away from the house to at least give Donald some privacy. No one could see him, but they always felt a presence whenever Gilfoyle was around. Might as well give the kid some peace for a while, poor dude looked like he could use it.

He came back in the evening when he was sure Donald would be settled. He watched the sunset briefly before turning to face the Barrett house. He still wasn’t a fan of this place. The kid was probably not going to be a saint either if he got paired with this family.

Gilfoyle went through the door and saw the children arguing in the kitchen about something. He didn’t bother trying to translate the near-screaming match they were having. The mother was in the living room taking a long drag from her cigarette as the father snored on the recliner. Seemed about right.

He floated to the second floor, looking around for Donald. He heard page rustling coming from the room on his left. He peeked in and saw Donald sitting on the ground, buried in a book. He supposed this was Donald’s room. It was tiny, like a closet. There was a sleeping bag placed next to Donald and that was it. A small suitcase was sitting in the corner, about a foot away from Donald. And that was the room. No decorations, no plants, not even a window.

Donald looked up and Gilfoyle was taken aback. He had the bluest eyes Gilfoyle had ever seen. And they were staring directly at him.

“Hello there.” What was going on? Gilfoyle checked behind him, wondering if there was someone else. There wasn’t. If Gilfoyle had a beating heart, it’d probably be going a thousand miles per hour.

“Um…” His attention snapped back to Donald, who was still looking at him. “Who are you?”

“M-me?” Gilfoyle would have cringed at his stutter if he wasn’t so shocked.

Donald nodded. “Yeah. I’m Donald.” He stuck his hand out to shake. Gilfoyle shrunk away from the hand.

“There’s no point.” The hand fell sadly, Donald looking confused. “I don’t know how to say this. Uh…”

“What’s wrong? Are you also part of my foster family?”

“No, I’m not. I’m a ghost, actually.” Well, he said it. Donald still stared at him blankly. “See?” He put his hand through the wall next to him, Donald’s eyes widening almost comically.

“H-how did you do that?”

“I’m a ghost. Or a poltergeist. I don’t know the science.”

“Oh. What’s your name?”

“Gilfoyle. I’m assuming you heard the stories of a ghost haunting this town, right? That’s all me.” Donald shook his head.

“No, I haven’t really talked to the other people here.” Wow, so uncultured.

“Okay...well...no one has ever seen me or...talked to me.” Donald’s eyes grew more intense somehow.

“This...this isn’t a prank, right?”

“Why would this be a prank?”

“It’s like a ritual to get me inducted into the family. To see if I’m lovable enough to be a part of it.” What the fuck?

“Like hazing?”

“Hazing?”

“It’s what the pranks are. They’re hazing you. If those pranks are so messed up that an actual ghost would be an idea for a prank, that’s not a good sign.” Donald’s eyes flashed with sudden anger.  
“Who are you to talk? You don’t look much older than me. You don’t know my old families at all.” Shit, the one friend Gilfoyle has ever made and he was angry. Fuck. Not a friend. He’s not a friend. Gilfoyle doesn’t have friends.

He put his hands up. “My bad, my bad. You’re right. I don’t know. I just…”

He just got worried. Fuck, Gilfoyle does not worry about people. That’s not his style. Yet, there was something about Donald. Even besides the fact that Donald could see him. He didn’t want to think about it.

Donald shrugged, looking calm again. “It’s okay. So...how old are you?”

“I was 12 when I died. Been dead for a while now. I lost track of the years.”

“You’re wearing a Led Zeppelin shirt. It looks new. Are you wearing the clothes you died in? If so, it’s been...um...”

“I’m wearing what I died in. I can just tell you what year I died in so you don’t have to an analysis of my clothes.” Donald nodded sheepishly. “I died in 1979.”

“Oh.”

“What year is it?”

“1995.” Oh.

“Ah. So...16 years.” He’s been dead for 16 years. Time flies.

“Um...I should have a lot of questions. About being a ghost and stuff. But I don’t know what to ask.” Donald’s eyes widened suddenly. “Of course, you don’t even have to answer them! Gosh, I don’t want to pry! Oh, Donald. Not good, Donald, not good.” Gilfoyle didn’t think he was being noticed anymore as Donald continued to mumble to himself. He awkwardly stood over Donald, trying to think of what to say.

“Hey man, it’s no problem. Dude, you’re fine.” He stooped down to Donald’s level and tried to hold his gaze. “I’ll be honest, since I died, I haven’t talked to anyone. I probably won’t be the best conversation partner. But I’ll try.” Donald looked so touched.

“Oh, that’s so sweet of you. You’re so kind.”

Gilfoyle recoiled. “I’m not kind! I scare the shit out of people everyday!”

“But you’re so soft,” Donald practically cooed. “You’ve been so kind and you haven’t scared me yet.”

“Fuck that, I’m not nice. I just failed to scare you because I didn’t realize you could see me.” Donald didn’t look convinced. He just smiled at Gilfoyle. Gilfoyle refused to think about how nice his smile was.

“I’m just happy I have a friend. I’ve never made one before! It’s exciting.” Gilfoyle didn’t know why, of all people, a naive foster kid was the only person who can see Gilfoyle.

“Okay, well...we’re not friends.” Donald’s smile didn’t fade. Ugh. “Get that through your head, I don’t have friends.”

“Sure, Gilfoyle.” Donald winked and Gilfoyle groaned.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well...I decided to post another part to the story! It's pretty short but it's just a little bit more development for Jared and Gilfoyle's relationship (platonic at this point as they are children). I really love the ghost idea and I could use the writing practice so...here it is! Time skip of 2 weeks, Jared and Gilfoyle have hung out more, and Jared is very thrilled to have a best friend (even if he technically isn't alive) and yeah! Enjoy!

“Gilfoyle!” He turned to see Donald running across the street towards him. “Hey!”

“Yes?”

“I just wanted to see what you were up to. Also, I have flowers.” Donald was clutching a handful of dandelions. “I wanted to also ask you-”

“You’re aware that dandelions are weeds? They’re not flowers.” Donald looked down at them.

“Well, they’re still pretty. Just because it’s a weed, doesn’t mean it’s ugly. I was wondering where your grave was.”

“You want to put weeds on my grave.”

“I can find something else if you like.”

“Why do you want to put...stuff on my grave?”

Donald pursed his lips briefly. “I noticed the other day that the graveyards looked kind of rough. So, I wondered if anyone was tending to your grave.”

“I don’t know. It’s not in this town.”

“Oh.” Donald looked down at the dandelions again. “Where is it?”

“Canada.”

“Canada?!”

“I’m from Canada.”

“How did you get to Bluefield?!” Gilfoyle couldn’t help but be amused at how amazed he was.

“I flew here. You know...I can fly as a ghost. You’ve known of my existence for 2 weeks. Surely you noticed.”

“Well, yeah! But...why did you come here?”

“Just cuz.”

“Fair enough. I’m glad you did.” Donald looked disappointedly at the weeds. “I’ll just put this on another grave.”

“Another grave? Why would you care? You don’t even know any of the dead.”

“Why not? It takes no effort to lay dandelions on a grave and it makes things prettier.”

Gilfoyle watched, completely gobsmacked, as Donald ran in front of him and turned out of his sight. What a weird kid. Too sweet for this world. How was he still alive? 

The last 2 weeks had been interesting for him. He found out more about Donald as time went on. He was actually 11, a year younger than Gilfoyle technically was. Maybe. Donald said he wasn’t really sure when his birthday was. He also liked birds, for some reason. Gilfoyle just found their constant noises annoying but Donald was absolutely mesmerized by them. Donald’s most prized possession was the one photo of his mother. He slept with it underneath his pillow every night. 

Sometimes, at night, Donald would whisper things to Gilfoyle about his day. Gilfoyle pretended to not care, but he secretly enjoyed hearing his rather amusing takes on events throughout the day. He suspected that Donald could see through his rough exterior. He’d watch over Donald to make sure none of the siblings picked on him as he slept. It was only fair.

Gilfoyle decided to follow Donald. He could show him where there was a nice flower patch so that Donald didn’t lay some scraggly weeds on some random person’s tombstone.

He floated to where Donald turned and saw two older boys whispering and following Donald down the street. He couldn’t tell if Donald was aware of the boys until he turned and smiled at them both. Gilfoyle felt himself go colder.

“Hi!” Donald’s smile was blinding. “How are you both?”

Both of the boys glanced at each other but they looked unfazed. Gilfoyle couldn’t hear what they were muttering to Donald. He didn’t need to. Donald’s smile turned into a grimace and he watched as the dandelions were slapped out of Donald’s hand. 

“No,” Gilfoyle murmured to himself. One of the boys got Donald in a chokehold. Donald had gone limp, completely resigned to his fate as he started wheezing. The other one socked Donald right in his nose. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Gilfoyle rushed towards Donald without thinking. He opened his mouth and did his infamous scream. Everyone in town knew the unsettling noise. It happened right before objects were thrown and lights shattered. Parents taught their kids to take cover on the off-chance that they heard it. The boys leaped in the air and dropped Donald in fright.

They dashed away from Donald and were out of sight in seconds. Donald laid quivering on his side, his hands covering his ears as he took large gasping breaths. Gilfoyle stopped the piercing noise. He had never done it so loudly or with as much conviction. He would think about that later. Oh god, Donald.

Gilfoyle kneeled beside Donald and gently lifted his head to check Donald’s face for bruises and a broken nose. He felt Donald’s neck gently, checking for any injury. It’d probably start turning purple but otherwise, Donald would be fine. Donald’s nose was bloody but it wasn’t broken. Thank god.

Donald was staring at Gilfoyle with wide eyes, and he held Gilfoyle’s arm tightly. Wait.

He was...touching Donald. He could feel his flesh underneath his hand and he could feel Donald’s hands squeezing his forearm. For the past 2 weeks, he’s avoided contact with Donald as it often makes people feel cold and Donald didn’t need to get any paler. Gilfoyle felt Donald’s eyes on him. He tore his gaze away from Donald’s hand he felt Donald wrap him into a crushing hug. He didn’t know what to do. He hadn’t been hugged in so long. Longer than he had been dead, for sure.

Donald sniffed and Gilfoyle was slightly surprised to see Donald crying. “Hey...uh...are you okay?”

Donald looked shyly up at him. He had a hint of a smile on his face. “You scared me a bit.”

Gilfoyle, despite the situation, cracked a smile. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know what to do.”

“I’ve never had anyone protect me before.” Oh. He had just protected Donald without a second thought. He could think of no one but him in that brief moment lacking self control.

He wrapped his arms around Donald and squeezed. Not because he wanted human contact, but he didn’t want to hurt Donald’s feelings. That was all it was.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back at it again with another part to this little story! So school is just starting up and I wanted to post something before I become too busy to write frequently. I do really love writing for this series, I just really love the idea! Anyway, I hope this is an okay part. It is helping me practice my writing at least! Please, enjoy!

The touch had pretty much sealed Gilfoyle’s fate. He was going to stay with Donald. Donald had done what no one else had done beforehand. Every time Donald would casually touch Gilfoyle, through pats on the back, through mindlessly brushing past him, Gilfoyle would feel slightly more normal. He’d briefly forget his situation or the amount of time he had spent alone. It inclined him to stick around. For better or for worse.

None of Donald’s foster siblings messed with Donald. Every time they tried, a sudden chill went through them. Weird things would happen throughout the day as well. Dangerous things. Their rooms would be in disarray, any electronics they used would suddenly start having technical difficulties, and more. Donald always told Gilfoyle he never needed to be vengeful. He gave Gilfoyle countless examples of siblings who had treated him worse. It made Gilfoyle’s ghost blood boil. He tried not to show it.

How could anyone take advantage of this kid the way these assholes have? Donald only had the best intentions for everything. 

Donald never talked about past foster parents. He was mum on the subject and Gilfoyle never pressed him, even if he desperately wanted to know who he should terrorize for the rest of their miserable lives.

Gilfoyle was self aware. He had become very attached to Donald in a short amount of time. Donald was his one true connection to the regular, alive world. He hadn’t realized how much he had desperately missed being a part of it until Donald came along. He was cautious about losing all he had in the world.

It’s part of the reason he had acted the way he had when Donald’s foster parents had started to act up around him.

Gilfoyle didn’t have much power against them. They were stubbornly persistent with their awfulness towards Donald. The father would yell at Donald and get angry at him over the tiniest things. The mother was...handsy. Handsy in a way that made Gilfoyle uncomfortable to witness. He couldn’t imagine how Donald must have felt. He noticed how Donald’s eyes would glaze over whenever he was screamed at by a grown man, or groped by a woman 4 times his age. It was like Donald wasn’t even there mentally.

At night, Donald always acted like nothing happened. He’d lie there, in the shitty closet, talking about his day at school or a cool bird he saw that day. Gilfoyle wouldn’t be able to tell the ordeal he went through without witnessing it for himself.

One night, he got curious. “Donald?”

“Yes?”

“How do you cope?” There was a moment of silence, as Donald tried to figure out what he meant.

“Cope?”

“How do you cope with your situation? I watch your foster parents treat you awfully. This isn’t the first abusive family I’ve seen. Yet, you act so...differently than other kids. How do you cope?”

There was a moment of silence again before Donald gave an unsatisfying answer. “I don’t know.”

“Oh.”

“I mean...I’ve always just...been in a lot of situations like this so I just...fall into the same routine. This is an easier one honestly. You know...because I have you. Also, these people are much nicer than…” Donald stopped talking, wincing as he did so.

“I see.”

“Why did you wanna know?”

“No reason.”

Gilfoyle crafted a plan right then and there, to get Donald out of his shitty situation. Gilfoyle could barely take it after only a month of surveying Donald’s life. The phone Donald had received from his social worker had been taken and they haven’t seen it since.

He waited for Donald to fall asleep as he began to think over the details of how to get a surprise check by the police here quickly.

~~

It took a week to get everything ready. To scope out the perfect house, to find the perfect time, to make sure everything was perfect. But by the end of it, Gilfoyle was going to get Jared out of this house and into a place completely different. Donald rarely spoke about a different situation, but sometimes he’d tell Gilfoyle about how he always wanted to go to the west or east coast, away from the middle of the country. Gilfoyle was gonna do whatever he could to get him to either one.

It was a Wednesday night when a house about a block away suddenly was broken into and robbed. It was a messy crime, a piece of crucial evidence left behind. A bat used to break the front window was left lying in the bushes, seemingly forgotten by those responsible. It had plenty of DNA evidence to give the police a search warrant for the Barrett household.

Gilfoyle watched the police officers as they waltzed into the home and took in the dysfunctional environment. The two walked around the house and took in the beer bottles spread all throughout the home, including in some of the children’s rooms. They saw Donald’s sad sleeping space and how starved and unhealthy Donald looked. They saw how loud the other children were and how Donald was sitting to the side, effectively silent. They even found some of the stolen items in a drawer in the nightstand next to the bed of the mother. Including Donald’s missing cellphone, which they kindly gave back.

No one would ever suspect a ghost had robbed a house, purposefully left evidence, and planted more to indict someone. All except for Donald. But Gilfoyle knew that Donald was relieved, even if Donald never would dare to complain about this family. It was difficult to watch but Gilfoyle knew that he could help Donald with that. He would try at least.


End file.
